The Tale of the Crazy Phone Lady

What just happened? How? Where was the logic? Has she not understood the basic function of a mobile phone?

As I write this in my qute little red notebook I'm sitting in Gardermoen Airport, Oslo. I had to write it in the moment, stream of consciousness-like, since it really is not something you see every day.

I'm sitting in the airport, minding my own business, listening to music and reading a book; when I, through my music(!) heard a dialog going on right next to me between a lady and her phone. She was sitting all by her lonesome, on the bench, right next to me, speaking to someone on her phone.
Normal you say?
Indeed, except that she is completely alone and still has her friend on speakerphone. She is loud and her friend on the ther end of the line is equally loud and blissfully unawhare that her friend has put her on speaker....

I'm just waiting for them to stray from their current "How's work?" kind of polite conversation and start speaking in detail about their lovelife; they are clearly friends, so why wouldn't they, or at least the one sitting at home feeling secure in her privacy whilst not knowing shes on the phone in front of the whole gate 28. Apparently Crazy Phone Ladys daughters has got worms in her stomach and is feeling ill. Her kids like to snowboard, except Florian of course (why is that "of course"? I'm sickly curious) The lady on the other end of the line is Sara. Sara is starting a blog about her skiing vacation this Easter. I can't help but wonder what kind of person Sara is, if I can find her blog and if she has any idea that she's on speaker.

Damn, they just ended the call. Crazy Phone Lady got a book out of her bag. I wonder if she'll start reading it out loud to no one in particular...? No, never mind, she read about a sentence, put it back in her bag and got going. I should think she whent to the bathroom to look at her own reflection, because that's the only thing such a self-involved person could possibly care to do when the Gate 28ts full attention no longer is on her!

Hare-What. The. Hell.

Siren

Extras, Hotel Cæsar style

This morning I journeyed into the extras universe, which I had been looking forward to. Even if being an extra isn't exactly acting, especially not in the Norwegian soap opera Hotel Cæsar, but I would be in front of a camera non the less; exciting!

I got the script via e-mail last night with an apology of lateness on their part, I didn't mind because it does not take an immeasurable amount of time to learn two lines... The story takes place in the local Kiwi where a distraught cashier (me) sits glumly behind the counter doing the business of any merchant: money in exchange for goods.
Then the winner of some open audition for the part of Runa comes over to my character and shows her concern for me since my grandmother is in the hospital and, as I said, I look gloomy. Not the most original or likely scenarios, but who am I to complain? I would get to sob on a soap! I reluctantly take her up on her offer of taking over for me since I want to go visit my grandmother. We have a heart-warming moment and I leave. I can safely say it will be my three seconds of fame, an Oscar worthy performance!

Easy right? No... not when you're me!

I had to be at the studio in Torshov at 9am to start filming and therefore had to get up quite a bit earlier than 9am to apply make-up, have some coffee and generally rise from the depths of my deathlike morning state. I overslept, took a two minute shower and bolted out the door, make-upless and with toothpaste on my t-shirt. As I arrived a few minutes late I resembled a heroine deprived transient with rain-drenched hair and PMSing skin.

I was greeted politely and sent up to a room of make-up artists. I of course thought: Thank Waits, they will fix my face with a sufficient layer of TV paint. They however just discussed how to hide the microphone in the minuscule amount of hair on the back of my head. They magically managed to do so with their superb make-up artist skills and some ducked tape; I wonder how long I will have these sticky squares of memory on my neck...

Two of the actors from the show, neither of whom I recognised, two other extras and I where rushed over to an enormous van with the Hotel Cæsar logo on the side and off we went towards ICA Birkelunden! There, we were put in unflattering ICA uniforms three sizes too big, got attached microphone-box-antenna things to (yes, the sound man got to put his hands in my pants) and where issued a new script. They had found the dying grandmother to be a smidgeon too cheesy and instead I was now in distress over an aching back.

I could see the distressed look on the new girls face (Runa) as she had rehearsed copiously for her tellie début. She was such a lovely girl and therefore I felt the need to convey love and went over to her, helped her out with some last-minute rehearsal and encouraging words. She got through it and was astonishing! I might even start watching the horrid show to see her!

I however had to overact my pain like a Days of Our Lives Jim Carry, watch my angles because I had ducked tape on my neck whilst fully aware that they where zooming in on my heroine addict and make-up deprived pasty face.

During the waiting time I bonded with my very own Maggie, personified by a guy studying at BI. He seemed overly happy about his part as "guy who puts groceries in bag" and it irked that I couldn't figure out why he was there; but he was funny and a little weird. I, of course assumed the part of the socially awkward, constantly confused and reluctantly annoying Andy Millman and had my own fun.

The cast and crew of Hotel Cæsar seem like a family of loving, accommodating and encouraging people... with exception of the one crew member who laughed and the acting skills of a fellow extra and the man who commented that I had quite a strong accent.

I think there should be more accents on Norwegian tellie! LOUD and PROUD!

Hare Krishna

Siren